Lies and Deception
by Candlegiglia
Summary: Hermione thought that she could end it. She thought she wouldn't have to lie anymore. But an encounter with an old enemy forces her to reminds her of the past that she wants to forget. She doesn't want to lie, but it seems like she has no choice. bit AU
1. One Malfoy Dead, Another Captured

A/N: Hi, I found this on my computer and thought I'd put it up. You might notice that there are lots of things that are different to the actual novel, I'm sorry if you don't like that.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

One Malfoy Dead, Another Captured

"_My first Death Eater! Ha! This'll show Ron!!" _Hermione thought as she cornered a Death Eater from her most recent battle. Hermione accompanied by some Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix, had arrived in a deserted town in the middle of nowhere to look for Death Eaters. They had received an anonymous letter informing them about a meeting that was meant to take place here. Since the Aurors and the members of the Order had nothing else to occupy their time other than worry about Harry and all the deaths that were happening all over the world, they decided to check if the letter held any shred of truth in it and arrived at the location mentioned in it, knowing full well that they may be leading them and their friends into a nightmare they can never return from. But doing something is better than doing nothing, they had all reasoned, even if it does seem like signing your death contract

So an hour and a half later several grown up witches and wizards had arrived at the spot, to find a group of Death Eaters lounging around a bonfire. They had been rather reluctant to let Hermione come with them owing to the injuries she had sustained during her previous battles, but if any of them had known Hermione Granger well, they would have known that their attempts to dissuade her to join them were futile and anything they said would have gone everywhere but Hermione's head.

Hermione who wanted to prove to not only to Ron but the other Order members that she was someone not to be messed with, had gathered new determination from the depths of her heart and held her ground last night when she argued her case with McGonagall who was now newly assigned Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the order of the Phoenix along with Harry whenever he was around to join in on the discussions.

Surprised and impressed by her former student's determination, the old witch had agreed.

Now Hermione stood in a narrow alleyway that branched from the wide main road of the town with her first Death Eater before the point of her wand, disarmed and a long way away from help.

Smiling triumphantly, she took off the Death Eater's mask.

As the moonlight brought the wizard's pointed features into light, a gasp escaped Hermione's mouth rendering it dry for any speech. Her wand hand wavered a little as her heart sank into her stomach, burning in the bubbling acid of the fleshy bag.

"Hermione…" the name escaped the wizard's lips before he could stop. It had been almost a year since he had said her name. He had thought that his mouth had forgotten the feel of her name on his lips but as he whispered her name for what he thought was the last time, he realised that no matter how long it may be but he will never forget that name and the person the name belonged to.

Hermione had given up hope that she will ever hear her name from the wizard before her but as she heard the three syllables reach her ears, her doubts regarding the wizard's identity were proved right and her grasp on her wand loosened a little as her heart skipped a beat. Despite the fact that she loved the way he said her name and the fact that she had been secretly longing to hear it again, she wished, now more than ever, that this wizard infront of her was someone else and that he had not uttered her name at all for even after a year, even though she thought she had moved on, it still broke her heart to hear it and to know that that will be the last thing he will ever say.

She could vaguely hear footsteps approaching them, but she paid them no attention. Her eyes, mind and heart were fixed on the wizard infront of her.

"Hermione!" said the wizard again, with a note of panic in his voice this time, bringing Hermione back to the cruel world of reality. She quickly composed her thoughts and face before the wizard took an advantage of it.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" a jet of green light escaped from Hermione's wand, hitting the wizard squarely on the chest.

Before Hermione had any chance to do any magic, the wizard had snatched her wand from her and pointed it behind her, casting the spell. She had felt a frisson travel down her back as the ray of green light travel past, a whoosh of coolness blowing past her. Hermione had been rooted to the spot thinking for a second that the wizard was going to point the wand to her next; she thought that he was going to take advantage of her weakness. Like he had done so many times before.

Hermione, shocked at what at had just happened, turned around, hoping no one she knew, loved was lying cold on the wet ground.

The wizard was wearing a mask similar to the one that she had taken off a few minutes ago. The man, who was lying in a heap before her was a Death Eater. She felt a rush of emotion all at once: relief, confusion, fear and anger.

A heavy silence reined the alleyway as Hermione and the other Death Eater continued to stare at the dead man. Despite being enemies, the same expression dominated their faces: one of utter shock and horror. In moonlight that reached them, the dead Wizard's long straight white blonde hair was visible quite clearly.

Hermione looked up when she heard a 'POP' sound infront of her. Her breath got caught in her throat as she wondered if it was yet another Death Eater but the wizard's bright red hair told her that it was only Ron. Hermione felt something brush next to her hand. Looking down, she saw it was the Death Eater returning her wand back to her.

Ron looked flabbergasted at the dead man at his feet. He looked up at Hermione, then at the wizard next to her then back at the dead wizard.

When Ron looked back up at Hermione, his face split into a wide grin. "Well done Hermione! I didn't think you had it in you. One Malfoy dead, another captured! Excellent!!" Ron obviously thought that Hermione had killed Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione, when she realised this, was disgusted by Ron. How can he think that she had killed someone? _And to think that he had spent 8 years with me!_ She thought. However, Hermione thought it better not to enlighten Ron and played along with his story. After a moment's hesitation, she said, "Neither did I Ron…Ron you know the procedure. You can take Lucius' body to the Ministry. Let them know of their loss, while I deal with Malfoy here. He might be able to provide us with some useful information. I'll take him to the Headquarters." Ron nodded in agreement and bent down to grab Lucius' arm. He looked up at Hermione, one last time and told her to take care; with that he apparated to the ministry, leaving Hermione and Malfoy alone again.

"Thanks, Malfoy. Now, turn around." Their gaze met for a second. Then Draco turned around, his hands already in fists behind him. Hermione wondered why he escape, but didn't pursue the subject.

Hermione conjured ropes around Malfoy's hands and then around his whole body, rendering him motionless. Taking his hand tightly in hers, she apparated to the attic of 12 Grimmauld Place, where they were greeted by Ron and other members of the Order. They all smiled at Hermione, praising her silently for her capture, but there was no mistaking the worry and surprise in their eyes. It was clear that they found it hard to believe that she had killed someone. None of them had her figured as the killing type.

Kingsley Shackelbolt stepped infront and pushed Draco roughly into a chair he had just conjured. The whispers hushed down and a tense silence filled the hall. "Malfoy, this is the Order of the Phoenix and you will answer any questions that are directed to you." Kingsley spoke with authority and confidence.

Hermione, knowing what was to come, tried slinking away into the crowd but she hadn't even taken a step back, when Kingsley spoke her name.

"Hermione as you caught him I think you should be the one to interrogate him. I trust you to not to let him escape."

Trying to hide the fear she felt inside, Hermione nodded accepting her task, ignoring the stares she was receiving from the Order members as they all vacated the room.

"Hi, Draco," The hurt was painfully visible in her eyes now and her voice trembled with emotion. Draco tried looking at her in the eye but couldn't. The guilt overpowered him as he lowered his gaze. Another feeling wiggled its way into his heart: rage. He was furious with himself. It would be so much easier for Hermione to do her task, if it wasn't for him. He was the cause of the hurt in her eyes. And the fear and something else that lurked behind the shadows in her heart…


	2. Reminscing

A/N: Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

Reminiscing

"Why so quiet Hermione? Usually you wouldn't stop talking" Malfoy tried to start a conversation with Hermione partly to kill the silence that was between them, partly because he wanted to hear Hermione speak. Yes, he had heard her talk to other people but that wasn't the same when she talked to him.

Hermione, however, was in no mood to talk to Malfoy. So she pretended not to hear him but she couldn't ignore the voice in her head that was asking the same question. _Why wasn't she saying anything?_ Closing her ears to the voice, she carried on walking with Malfoy infront of her, waiting for her to reply, knowing he wasn't going to get one.

When they reached the attic, Hermione stepped forward and opened the door to let Malfoy in. He stepped in the room and turned around to find Hermione staring at him. As soon as he turned around, Hermione averted her eyes and stared out of the round window on the wall on her left.

"What are you staring at, Hermione?" He asked, having another attempt at a conversation.

Not wanting to tell him the answer to that question, Hermione ignored his question once more. Instead she said, "There is everything you need here. I'll get you some food in a minute" Malfoy was surprised she had spoken at all. He had thought that she would ignore him again and leave. He wanted to ask her so much but he knew that like the other questions he had asked her, she would ignore them as well. Also, it's not going to help him if annoyed her; she might leave him starving all night. So he kept his questions to himself and nodded. Then turned around to examine the room he had been given.

Hermione didn't know what she expected but she certainly had not anticipated Malfoy to just nod and turn away. A little disappointed, she closed the door and made her way to the kitchen to get some food.

When she returned to the hall it was almost empty: most of the members had returned to their homes. In the kitchen, she found Mrs Weasley pouring Ron and Lupin some soup and handing them some bread. Not wanting to talk to anyone, she picked up a plate from the middle of the table and placed a handful of bread on it and poured some soup in a bowl that was set out for her and some water in a glass.

"Look who's hungry" Ron said smiling at her. In return, he got a scowl from Hermione. She didn't know why, but she was really annoyed at Ron. It reminded her of her first year at Hogwarts when she hated the red head. There was something about him that had bugged her then, and sometimes, she was reminded of their first encounter in the train and her skin would start crawling with irritation again.

"It's for Malfoy," she said after a long time, through gritted teeth. Before Ron could say anything, Hermione picked the plate and placed the glass on the plate and hurried out of the kitchen leaving Mrs Weasley, Ron and Remus staring at the door through which she just left.

Trying to shake off the frustration at Ron, she made her way back to the attic. Using her wand, she opened the door and stepped inside, to find Malfoy fast asleep, his Death Eater cloak and shoes still on. He was half on the bed and half off which made Hermione almost laugh out loud. Almost. But Hermione smiled for the first time in a month when she saw his open mouth and his arms lying limp off the bed. Realising what she was doing, she stopped and trying not make too much noise, she placed the food on the desk. Then she crouched next to him on the floor.

She didn't say anything; she just watched him sleep with his mouth wide open. She knew she should really wake him up and tell him to eat his dinner because she knew he was hungry but she hadn't the heart to wake up Malfoy from his dreams for whatever they were, Hermione was sure that they were better than this world of reality from which she desperately wanted to leave.

Watching Malfoy sleep took Hermione's mind off things that she was meant to be doing. There was just something about him that calmed her down and forget about the world around her. The sleeping Malfoy looked like a small innocent child, but Hermione knew from experience that Draco Malfoy was anything but innocent. Looking at him like this, nobody would have thought that this man is a Death Eater and had killed someone: his own father, because in his sleep Malfoy looked at peace from the world and all his worries.

But looking at Malfoy's sleeping form also brought back memories from Hermione's past; memories she had tried so hard to forget.

"_Bye Mum! I'll send you a letter as soon as I get here! Bye-Bye!!" shouted an 11 year old Hermione Granger to her parents as she climbed on the Hogwarts' Express on her way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_Smiling brightly, Hermione lifted her enormous trunk and started searching for a compartment, she found one quite soon. Getting in, she sat on next to window overlooking the platform 9¾. She couldn't believe that she was a witch. She had read the letter she had received everyday to confirm that she hadn't dreamed it all up. The 11 year old was so fascinated by magic that she couldn't resist watching other parents and students. One family particularly caught her attention. It was kind of hard not to notice them for they were being rather loud._

"_Now Draco, behave yourself at school and stay away from… inappropriate company," said a wizard with long white-blonde hair eying a pair of nervous of looking parents talking to a little girl, with disgust. The young boy infront of the wizard, followed his father's gaze and imitated his father's expression of disgust._

"_Yes of course father" he replied looking back at the wizard before him. Giving his son one last look, he turned around and disapparated. Hermione gasped. She had read about wizards apparating and disapparating but seeing someone actually do it came as a surprise to her. Watching the family with interest, she looked back at the boy who was now being hugged by his mother. She too had straight long white-blonde hair and just as expected her son had inherited the hair colour. "Bye Draco, see you at Christmas" she said then she too disapparated._

_The boy picked up his trunks (he had two) and climbed on board. Hermione removed her gaze from the boy and watched other parents and students. She jumped in surprise when she heard her compartment door open. She turned around to see the same boy she had been watching._

"_Er…" he started not sure what to say. Hermione understood what he was trying o say even though he hadn't said anything that would classify as a word in the Oxford's 99__th__ edition dictionary. She grabbed her trunk from the middle of the compartment. _

"_Yes of course. Hi I'm Hermione Granger. You?" she asked, looking expectantly at the boy infront of her. He looked almost the same age as her, so she guessed that he, like her, was in his first year. His short cropped white-blonde hair was slicked back and he was licking his pale lips in nervousness. A smirk grew on his face, stretching his skin in a strange manner, it suited him but it also gave him a strange quality that Hermione couldn't be sure of. "I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy," he replied. "You must be a mud-blood, judging from your clothes?" Hermione looked down at her clothes, wondering what was wrong with them. She didn't know what 'mud-blood' meant but the hostility in Draco's voice told her that it wasn't anything good. She grabbed her trunk and left to find another compartment. She locked it, and drew the curtains. Then, she changed into the school uniform. She was determined to make Hogwarts a new start, a place where she won't get derided and shunned from company, especially because of her clothes. She had felt so hurt that large drops of tears appeared in her eyes. But it wans't until much later that she would begin to understand Draco's reasons for being so mean.  
_

Hermione smiled at the memory. That was the first time she had met Draco. Whenever she was alone, she fantasised how life would have been if Malfoy hadn't been so hostile; if he had dared to reveal his true self to her immediately. Still smiling, she was about to close Malfoy's open mouth, when his eyes fluttered open and he unconsciously gripped Hermione's wrist. The smile Hermione had, slipped off, replaced by a look of discomfort for Malfoy's grip on her wrist was a bit tight. She snatched her hand away, looking at the Malfoy with confusion. Recovering from her shock, she stuttered, "I…I've got your dinner." Then she got up, rubbing her wrist and made for the door, when Malfoy got hold of her wrist once more. An electric shock ran up her arms at his touch, which was much gentler than before.

Malfoy took a step forward and pulled Hermione towards him. Hermione turned around, surprised to find how close she was to him, their faces only inches apart. There was a time when she would have loved to be this close to Malfoy. But now, his proximity scared her.

"Hermione, I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered, his warm breath reminding her of how close she was to him and how easily she could kiss him; and she was tempted to do just that but she resisted.

"It's ok," she muttered before running out of the room and putting a non-apparating charm on it. Then, she dashed to her room that she shared with Ginny, her eyes brimming with tears but she shook them off. Hermione would not give in to tears, not now, not after a year.

Ginny was not in the room, when Hermione got there. She changed into her PJs and silently went to bed, trying to go to sleep, but it seemed by the way she kept tossing and turning, that sandman was off duty tonight and sleep would be something difficult to achieve today. Giving up, she stared at the ceiling, thinking of the topic she had avoided all day: Draco Malfoy. She marvelled at how easily he had uttered the killing curse, at his own father too. She wondered if he could recognise his father and why he didn't direct the curse at her. Then she remembered him in the attic, sleeping. _How peaceful he looked_, Hermione thought. She remembered how close she was to him and how much she had wanted to kiss him. Oh, how mush she missed his pale lips on hers! Hermione will have to exercise self-control, now more than ever. She hadn't told anyone about her and Malfoy, not even Harry and Ron and wasn't about to start now. Now when there was nothing left in their relationship and yet, she couldn't help think that she had seen a strange look in Malfoy's grey eyes. Shaking the image of his face, out of her mind, she tried going to sleep, thinking, _What if he had stayed?_


	3. Screaming and Shouting

Screaming and Shouting

Despite her plaguing thoughts, Hermione managed to get at least five hours sleep. She woke up at half past five when she could no longer bear the piercing rays of sunlight streaming in from the window she had forgotten to close last night. She looked over at the bed about two meters away from her that held the sleeping form of Ginny Weasley. Hermione had no idea how but Ginny always managed to sleep in the morning with the blazing sunlight on her eyes.

Quietly, making sure not to wake the red head, Hermione slipped out of the bed and decided to go outside in the garden at the back where she could have some peace and arrange her thoughts and feelings from the night before. As much Hermione tried to tell herself that what happened last night was all a dream, she couldn't. She knew that it was not a dream it was better to embrace the truth than fight it; but how do u embrace the truth when it comes with sharp spikes that make holes in your body and in the form of Draco Malfoy? Trying to think of something other than Malfoy, Hermione silently made her way to the garden, when a voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Thinking about me?" and that voice Hermione realised with a sinking feeling belonged to none other than Draco Malfoy. She turned around to see Malfoy leaning against the door frame, his arm crossed and his world-famous smirk plastered on his face. Hermione had not expected to see Malfoy so early in the morning, especially when she was trying so hard not to think of him.

Taking a deep breath, she asked: "No 1: What are you doing down here? You're meant to be up in the attic. No 2: What makes you think that I will be thinking about you, after what you did to me?" It would have been more impressive and much more intimidating if Hermione had said it sharply but a small part of it, though she didn't realise it then, was glad to see Malfoy.

Straightening himself, Malfoy took a step towards Hermione, while Hermione took a step back, keeping the distance between them. Malfoy, noticing what Hermione was doing, took another longer step towards her. Hermione took two steps back and was about to tell him to stop when she yelped really loudly waking the whole house up for she had not realised that there was a sofa right behind her and she might stumble over it; but Malfoy it seemed had seen it coming and jumped into action. He took a giant leap, landing right infront of Hermione, wrapped one arm around her waist to stop her falling and the other on her mouth to stop her making his ear drums explode.

Hermione instantly stopped when she felt Malfoy's arm snake behind her back and the other on her mouth. She looked wide eyed and worried for a moment, then she realised that Malfoy wouldn't let her fall and she placed her hands on his shoulders to support herself.

That was when Ronald Weasley decided to walk in. Without using the little brain that he had, he strode across the hall, his face redder than his hair. He took hold of Malfoy's arm and punched him right on his lips.

Hermione shrieked when Malfoy let go of her and fell on the one-seater sofa, her head tucked in, her midriff curved, her legs sticking out and her arms flailing about. She looked as if she was doing a backwards roll but had got stuck in the process and now had no idea how to get herself out of her predicament.

Draco wanted to hit Ron back dearly and teach him how to punch properly but resisted. He got a cut on the corner of his mouth, which he was certain would turn into a nasty bruise come evening.

None of the boys had noticed that the girl they were fighting about, was lying in an odd position on the sofa, trying to get herself upright but making no apparent progress other than deafen Ron's right ear and Malfoy's left (if you could call that progress).

Now realising the mess Hermione was in, they both moved to help her. Malfoy, being nearest to Hermione, got hold of her arm first and was about to put his other arm around her neck so as not break it but Ron pushed him out of the way and helped Hermione off the sofa.

Instead of thanking the two boys for helping her, Hermione unleashed her wrath on them, taking the boys by surprise. Both of them tensed their shoulders and froze in the process of whatever action they were doing (including breathing). Hermione did not notice this or if she did then she chose to ignore it. After calling them among other things, 'two overlarge baboons', she stormed out of the hall. Malfoy and Ron released a sigh of relief but stopped mid way when Hermione returned. She grabbed Malfoy's arm and dragged him upstairs to the attic, where she conjured a box of fist aid so that Malfoy can heal the cut. "Now stay where you are!" Hermione ordered him, once he was inside the room. Then a few seconds later, she added a kindly, "The green one should be able to heal the bruise completely." Then she turned away. When she was closing the door, she heard Malfoy say something that sounded something like 'Women!' Instead of making her angry, that comment made her smile and all her anger disappear. She would have apologised for her rude behaviour was it not for the fact that Malfoy was a Death Eater and he was a prisoner in 12 Grimmauld Place.

When she reached the hall downstairs, she found Ron sitting on the soda, rubbing his ear. Before going to the kitchen, she said: "I must have forgotten to lock the attic door last night. You don't need to worry now; I've put a charm on it to stop Malfoy leaving the room."

The clattering dishes and voices in the kitchen told her that others were up. She was about to open the kitchen door and announce her presence, not that it needed announcing seeing that she was practically a living alarm clock for the whole of London a couple of minutes ago, when she heard her name followed by Malfoy's. Dreading they had found out about them, Hermione stood at the doorway listening.

"When is Hermione going to interrogate Malfoy?" said a voice that Hermione recognised as McGonagall's.

"I don't know. I'll have to ask her. Why?" said another voice that belonged to Remus.

"I didn't want a Death Eater residing in our headquarters especially one from You-know-who's inner circle any longer than necessary," McGonagall replied as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What are you thinking of doing to him after the questioning?"

"Well, personally I want him dead like all the other Death Eaters but we will have to hand him over to the Ministry and let them decide."

McGonagall's answer vanquished any hunger that Hermione felt. Fear settling in her heart, she walked back to her room, not hearing Ron calling out her name.

Hermione sat in the corner of her four-poster bed, her arms wrapped around the pillar. Her mind agreed with McGonagall. After everything that Malfoy had done to other people and her, she wanted him to die. But her heart disagreed. Her heart thought that even though Malfoy had done terrible things in the past, he deserved a second chance. He got his second chance, infact Hermione have him four chances, her brain argued. Her heart could not come up with an argument to that but it did not want Malfoy dead. After all the crimes that Malfoy had committed, it still wanted him alive. Hermione knew why but she hated to admit it to herself. It was childish really; hanging on to the past, but her heart clung onto it with a firm grip as if it had been nailed to it for it was in the past that Hermione's heart had truly beaten; it was in the past that Hermione was truly alive; it was in the past, she found the difference between enjoying herself because she lived and living because she enjoyed herself; it was in the past where her heart and soul wanted to live…


	4. The Interrogation

The Interrogation

After eating a small lunch, Hermione headed for the attic to question Malfoy. She was half way up the stairs when she heard some commotion downstairs. Ignoring it she carried on walking until she reached the familiar brown varnished door.

Inside, she found Malfoy sitting on the chair staring out of the window. Hermione stood at the doorway taking in his appearance. He had changed in last two years. When she realised what she was thinking, she pushed them away and coughed to inform Malfoy of her presence.

Malfoy turned around and opened his mouth to say something but closed it shut when two boys appeared next to Hermione. He pursed his lips as he glared at the raven haired, Harry Potter. Harry returned the glare with equal hatred.

He shoved past Hermione, who looked confused and furious. Conjuring three chairs out of thin air, he sat down on the one in the middle and invited Ron and Hermione to do the same. Ron moved to sit next to him. Hermione, however, stood rooted to the spot looking at her friends for an explanation. When she received none, she asked them, "Harry, Ron what are you doing here?"

"We're here to interrogate, Hermione. Please sit down." Harry answered, not removing his gaze from Malfoy's.

Reluctantly, Hermione sat herself down on the chair on Harry's right. Trying to keep her temper under control, she began interrogating Malfoy but Malfoy seemed to have not heard her for he did not answer any of the questions. Hermione suspected that it was due to the fact the Ron and Harry were overlooking the interrogation.

"Malfoy do you know the current whereabouts of the Death Eaters?" Hermione asked for the seventh time. When Malfoy maintained his silence, Harry lost it and whipped his wand out and towered over Malfoy pointing it under his chin.

"Harry, NO!" Hermione got to her feet as well, begging Harry to calm down. Harry replaced his wand back in the pocket of his robe, but he refused to sit back down. "Harry, Ron, please leave," Hermione continued. Her best friends looked at her, opening their mouths to protest but relented when Hermione gave them a pleading look. None of them were happy to leave but they did so anyway.

Hermione moved to close the door and cast a silencing charm in the room, knowing that Ron would eavesdrop on their conversation. Putting her wand away, she turned to look at Malfoy. He mouthed a 'thanks' in her direction, which she accepted with smile. Leaning against the door, Hermione restarted the question and answer session by conjuring some sandwiches and a glass of pumpkin juice for Malfoy, which he ate almost as soon as they had appeared. When he was done, he looked up at Hermione waiting to be bombarded with questions but the fist question she asked him was so surprising, he almost fell off his chair.

"Do you want some more?" she asked

"No," he replied with the sides of his mouth, threatening to smirk.

Hermione nodded, and with a flick of her wand, the plate and the glass disappeared. Then she began the real questioning.

"So, I heard you were-" she stopped mid way when Malfoy finished her question for her, getting up.

"-in You-know-who's inner circle?"

"Yes" Hermione said, gulping, as Malfoy took a step towards her…then another and one more until they were only inches apart. He gently placed his hands on Hermione's shoulder and looked sincerely into her huge brown eyes.

"Hermione, I want you to know that I was not in You-know-who's inner circle. He wouldn't let me after, after I failed to accomplish the task he's set in my 6th year." I was shoved from one Death Eater to another, to help them in their tasks. I believe he thought that I could learn something from them. But I failed him, yet again. I also want you to know that the only person that I've ever killed is my father. That was only because he was going to kill you." He stopped and looked into Hermione's eyes, looking for some sign of trust. He was surprised when tears appeared in them.

"Did he punish you?" she sobbed.

Malfoy winced as he remembered how Voldemort had him when he had failed him and not just Voldemort, his father as well. The torture and the agony of the Cruciatus Curse, they scarred his memory.

Hermione sniffed to suppress the sobs that were rising in her throat. A pearly tear trickled down her cheek, but it never made to the end of Hermione's face for Malfoy brushed it away with his thumb. "Oh! Draco, I missed you so much," Hermione said, sobbing but Malfoy brushed the tears away. Then, he cupped her face in his hands and leaned down to place a soft kiss on her lips. Hermione was surprised but she did not push him away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. Taking that as acceptance, Malfoy pulled her off the chair and holding her body close to his, he began kissing her earnestly.

They stopped suddenly when Hermione broke apart and looked at Malfoy fearfully before running out of the room, leaving Malfoy with his arms still hanging in the air.


	5. A Stranger

A/N: Hi guys, sorry for the delay but I had to re-write this chapter because things were happening too fast before. I hope you like it. Enjoy! and please leave reviews!

Chapter 4 - A Stranger

Gulping back the rising sobs, Hermione went back to her room where she spent most of the afternoon. She threw herself on the bed, her face into her pillow unable to hold back the tears that had threatening to fall since she had left the attic.

_How could he? _Hermione thought, _after all that happened between us? How could he do that?_ She slammed her fists on the sides of her pillow, trying to get rid of the anger she felt towards Draco, but to no avail. She doubted whether an eternity of slamming her fists will rid her of the rage and love she felt for him. _Why me? Why does he have to hurt me so? _ She tore the pillow cover with her bare hands, wishing that it was Draco's face not a stupid, heartless pillow. Hermione did not quite understand it then, but the pillow and Draco were similar in one respect: neither of them had a beating heart inside them.

Hermione let out a wail of despair and helplessness and fell down on her back, letting the tears flow, reminding her of all the instances when she had found herself crying her eyes out for something as pathetic as a boy: in her third, fifth, sixth and seventh. Four times she had let Draco Malfoy in her life, make her feel like a princess out of a fairy tale then throw her away life a plastic doll that a small child had grown out of and couldn't think of anything but to rip it's limb apart. Four times he had picked at her heart piece by piece, then throwing it away, letting Hermione find them from the heap of broken hearts and join them back together.

She had calmed down when Ron and Harry walked in laughing at a joke that Fred had said. Looking at them, a wave of frustration washed over her and she wanted nothing more than to tear them apart, limb by limb; how can they be enjoying life, when her life was being thrown out of the window by Draco, yet again, but of course they knew nothing of Hermione's relationship with Draco.

Hermione knew that they were not responsible for her problems but that didn't stop Hermione let out a roar of fury and storm out of the room and before any of them could ask them, what was wrong, she apparated from the landing.

* * *

Hermione burst into uncontrollable sobs the moment she arrived on the beach, her safe place. It wasn't long before Hermione had a complete breakdown.

Hermione hugged herself, trying to give herself some comfort. She cried on the damp sand for every heartbreak she'd felt. Nearly half an hour had passed and she was still crying but now, she had no idea what she was crying for. When did life get so complicated? It used to be so simple when she was little child. Her parents protected her from the cruelty of the world and did all they could to ensure that she was happy. Now, she was all alone; no parents; no relatives. Her parents had been murdered by Bellatrix only a month ago. Although Hermione had taken this news calmly, inside her life was rewinding before her eyes as if it was video. At the end, there was a blank. Complete and utter world of blackness, creeping on her heart accompanied by a new feeling: guilt. She had hardly ever spent time with her parents during the summer holidays and Christmas. After only a week or two of the holidays, she went to the Weasleys to spend the rest of the holidays with the magical community. She had told her parents that was where she belonged. As much true as that was, part of her had always longed to sneak under the cover of her parent's duvet and sleep with the warm arms of her mother around her assuring her that she was safe with them. She went to a different world with her mother's arms around her; a world that's now lost forever…

Hearing her parent's death had shattered that picture of a safe home behind their arms. And like a number of times before, she was left all alone to pick up the pieces of her broken heart and join them together, knowing that there are some pieces that she will never find.

Of course Ron's mother, Mrs Weasley had hugged her in a familiar way to her mother's but it still wasn't the same. Her mother had felt nothing but love and protectiveness for her while Mrs Weasley felt pity and sympathy. That was not what Hermione had wanted. Instead of easing her pain, it made her miss her parents even more.

A few minutes later, she had stopped crying altogether and was just sitting there in head lying low, nearly touching the sand, lost in the memories of the past, when the world was a better place, and she was innocent and naïve and didn't see the darkness, the lies.

She remembered her first kiss with Draco. It was different, new. That was the beginning of the change in her, when she started lying, and deceiving. And they came so easily to her, it frightened her; it was almost natural, as if that was her purpose: to lie.

She should have stopped then, but she couldn't. She just watched helpless, as a stranger took over her body and did things that she would never even think of doing, she would even gag at the thought. She lied to her parents, her friends…everyone. Even Draco.

She'd changed so much, she no longer knew the person who dwelled inside her. But she knew that she will never make that mistake again. She will not let Draco use her again. To change. Not now, not ever. And she promised herself, getting up, that will never again, feel for that man. No love, no hate, just indifference.

The woman who got up, her hands clenched, a stubborn resolve engraved on her face, looking at the dying sun was not Hermione. She'd made her choice. And no matter what, she'll stand by it.


	6. The First Time

Hi, I know it's been a long time. I'm doing the IB diploma and it's very time consuming. Anyway, I'll try to be more regular. And here's the next chapter. Just to let you know, I initially had sligtly different plans for this fanfiction and there was sequel (that I've now removed) and as you will notice, the title of the story has been edited slightly as well.

Anyway, this is part two. And it shows how Draco and Hermione's relationship started. Hope you enjoy it. Keep reviewing! :)

**Lies and Deception: Part 2; From Draco's POV**

**Chapter 6 – The First Time **

The hall was quiet. The curtains were drawn, and silent, shy rays of light timidly entered the Malfoy Manor's dining hall. It set the room in strange, pale white light. When Draco entered the dining room, late as usual, he was startled at the surreal pathos of the room. The green walls glinted in the light, a strange, greasy shine. The curtains too hung solemnly from the rails, bathing in the warmth of the light, twinkling in the light. Draco could see the small particles of dust dancing and swirling in the rays, trying to settle on the furniture. But if the adamant, triumphant smile of the polished wood was anything to go by, a polishing spell clung to the wood, preventing the dust particles from being seated. It unsettled Draco. It conveyed to him a strangeness that he had never felt before; a tension; a silent, strained conflict.

His parents were seated in the middle of the dining hall. They remained quiet, not exchanging a word. A shroud of coldness hung about them. Draco did not know what had happened, but he was glad that he had missed it. He didn't even want to be part of it now; he didn't want their gloom to touch him. He was about to turn around, and get Dobby to bring him his breakfast in his room, when the sharp, crisp voice of his mother stopped him.

"Draco." It was just his name, one word. Nothing else was needed. Draco could detect the poorly concealed anger in her voice. He had better come to breakfast after all.

He sat down. Immediately, breakfast appeared on his plate. Omelettes, French toasts, bacon, steak and glass of milk. His parents looked at their food, not looking up. He didn't want to eat. His previous hunger had dissipated, and he simply wanted to hide. He was only 11 years old but he could sense that something was not right. Something momentous was about to happen and he was desperate to avoid it.

"Eat." His mother uttered another single, monotonous word. He picked up his fork and knife, clamorously. The sharp, metallic sound echoed in the room, and reverberated across the furniture and the walls. He saw his father wince subtly. Slight colour appeared in his cheeks. He expected his father to shout, throw his chair back in rage and transform into a beast. Nothing should upset him. But, strangely, he controlled himself and remained silent.

As quietly as he could, Draco began to eat. He didn't dare look up, in case he met his parents' eyes and saw something that he didn't want to, in case he enraged his father further and annoyed his mother. Like his mother and father, he too looked at his food.

After he had eaten half of his bacon and was about to start the toast, he father spoke.

"Draco, you are eleven years old now." He said. Draco knew. Now, slowly, as he chewed his toast, he also realised why his father had remained so quiet and controlled.

"You should start school soon." Draco nodded. "You have been accepted into both Hogwarts and Durmstrang." Draco's stomach knotted in a stomach. He was a sickening feeling, and he regretted eating his bacon so quickly. He saw himself, dressed in black, a dark outlook on his face, surrounded by people from Durmstrang. "But your mother is against your going to Durmstrang." His father's voice grew harder. "So, we have decided to send you to Hogwarts after all." Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want to go to Durmstrang. A different country altogether, a different language as well. He knew his father had wanted him to study there, under one the best head teachers in the world – or so his father insisted. He glanced at his mother briefly, who was still looking at her food, his lips quivering. Draco didn't understand. There was something that upset his mother. But she had won; she had got what she'd wanted, hadn't she? Draco had got what he'd wanted. He was bubbling with excitement, but underneath it, there was a thin but definite layer of doubt.

"When you go to Hogwarts, Draco," his father continued, "you will behave like a true Malfoy. I do not want to hear anything…inappropriate about your behaviour." His voice had taken a dangerous tone. And Draco was afraid. Perhaps he would have been better at Durmstrang anyway; he would have been far from his father, far from his influence. But instead of arguing, Draco simply nodded. His father nodded in return; a sign that Draco could leave.

Platform 9 ¾ was crowed with people. Draco stood alone between his mother and father. He looked around, identifying the people he knew, the people he wanted to know, and the people he must never be associated with. He saw the Crabbe family, and their fat, pudgy son, squeezed between them. They were talking to the Parkinsons. Pansy, their daughter, looked bored. Draco suppressed a laugh. He knew Pansy pretty well; she often came to the Malfoy Manor with his mother. Further in the distance, he saw a large family, all with red flaming red heads. The mother – large with wild hair and an untidy ensemble of clothes – was fussing over the short, thin boy, her son. Others were doing the same. Children were hugging their mothers; father kissed their daughters. He wondered why his remained still, like statues.

"The Weasleys" his father spat the word with contempt and immediately Draco knew that he must never befriend them. He saw that another boy was standing with them. He had met him before, in the Diagon Alley. He looks lost; he kept looking around but Draco saw him throwing quick, furtive side glances at the Weasley mother.

"Well Draco," his mother said, turning around and bending down to meet his eyes. For a moment Draco thought that he too would be engulfed in a warm, loving hug. His mother gripped his hands, "Draco, you should go now, before the train leaves. Don't forget to write." She hesitated for a moment, and then stood up. Draco wasn't going to get his hug. He grabbed his trunk, and looked at his father and mother, and smiled. His mother smiled back; his father procured a stiff twitch from somewhere – Draco contented himself with the fact that that was as close to a smile as his father could get. He turned and boarded the train.

Upon entering the first carriage, he met a young girl. She seemed his age. She looked eagerly out of the window, waving frantically at her parents who stood not so far away. She turned around when she heard him enter. Her eyes grew, and his smile widened to reveal two large buckteeth.

"Hello," she said, "I'm Hermione Granger." Draco was about to reply and introduce himself as well when he noticed her clothes; her baggy jeans, and the red full sleeved t-shirt. A muggle. He remembered his father's words, his contempt when he spoke of muggles. He hated the fact that Hogwarts allowed entrance to petty commoners like them. Mud-bloods. Draco smirked, recalling the sneer that he had spent all summer practicing to his face. Hermione's smile wavered slightly.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he began, his smirk still intact and in place, "You must be a mud-blood, judging from your clothes." He had tried to imitate his father, trying to infuse in his words a hint of derogation. He wasn't sure if he had succeeded, but Hermione's smile disappeared from her face, crumbling altogether. She didn't say anything. She simply grabbed her large, bulky trunk and dragged it outside. He thought that he saw tears shining in her eyes. His stomach clenched, and his heart beat faster. He felt strange. He had hurt someone; he had hurt someone on purpose. He didn't like the feeling that gripped him; the urge to go to her and beg forgiveness was strong. But he soon forgot about it when Pansy and Crabbe strolled into the room. He forgot what he had done, but the strong feeling and the sound of a small crack tearing his conscience never left him.


	7. Transfiguration?

AN: Here you ago! Another chapter. Hope you like it. Reviews are always helpful. :) I might not be able to update for a few days however. Give me a week (maybe 2), I will get back. :)

**Transfiguration?**

"You should have seen Weasley's face!" Pansy roared, laughing, as she recounted her story. Nothing enthralled her better than to see someone suffer. Draco sat and listened quietly to her exploits. "The best part is, the ministry can't detect under age magic at the platform!" Crabbe and Goyle echoed her laugh. Draco too smirked at the thought of Weasley getting mud squirted all over him. 'Serves him right', he thought. His father would probably laugh along with Pansy; it was probably the kind of thing he would do too. "For a moment, I thought he was going to cry and run to his _mummy_!" Again, a cackle escaped her. Draco, fearing that somebody would inform his father of his sullenness joined in the laughter, letting his empty, half-hearted laugh jag around in the air. All the while he laughed, his stomach churned inside him and his insides twisted, as if someone was wringing them – he still remembered Hermione; her crumbled face. And though he would never tell anyone, he really wanted to apologize.

They had arrived at school. Draco stood in line waiting for his turn with the Sorting Hat. Excitement pulsed through him as he took in the sheer glory of the Great Hall; the candles, the ceiling, the food. Warmth exuded from every ornament, from every inch of the hall. He heard Professor McGonagall announce Hermione Granger's name. Though he wrinkled his nose to his friends, who mimicked his expression and snickered at her wild hair and rabbit-like teeth, he was interested. It wasn't long before the Hat decided to place her in Gryffindor. Draco wanted to follow her to the Gryffindor table, but then he looked at his company and he felt that he wanted to go to Slytherin even more; he wanted to please his father even more than he wanted to please his own conscience.

His name was announced. Professor McGonagall smiled at him, her lips curling upwards. Her eyes didn't match the emotion however. It seemed to him that he was silently getting derided. He looked at the teachers sitting. Professor Snape – a close associate of his father's – smiled encouragingly at him. But in others, he saw the same derision, and hidden contempt. Professor Dumbledore was different. In his sparkling blue eyes, he was something different. The young Draco Malfoy couldn't be sure what it was exactly – he had never seen anything like it before, but it calmed him, soothed him somewhat. He perched himself on the stool, as Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head.

"Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin' he muttered inside his head.

"Slytherin, eh?" the sly, curious voice of the hat drawled.

"Yes." The hat made a strange noise, as if it was going to disagree. But in the end, it yellowed, loud and clear for everyone to hear, "Slytherin!" Draco sighed, relieved. As he hopped to the last row of table towards the green throng of people, he quickly glanced at the red table; he caught Hermione. She was deeply engaged in a conversation, smiling. Maybe she had forgotten the incident, already?

October half term came as a relief to Malfoy. He had already told his parents that he would be spending the week at school. His mother's hopes were terribly crushed; Draco doubted that his father's heart moved at all at the news. He told them that he wanted to stay and concentrate on his studies. He knew how much his father wanted him to succeed; he knew how much he wanted to brag about him to his friends. A part of Draco wanted to make him proud; he really wanted to spend the week earnestly studying in order to earn a smile from his father. He was a hard man to please. So, for a few days, he dutifully gathered his text books, and settled down in a quiet corner of the library. Not many first years were around, some of them had gone home, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson were among them, and for that – he hated to admit it – he was glad.

But his resolve only lasted two days, on the third, he grew weary and tired. He wanted to please his father but he also wanted to do fun stuff. He looked outside the window next to him, and saw the open, empty Quidditch field that yawned in the emptiness, in the absence of any flyers. How Draco wished to occupy the space; he turned to look at his book – Defence Against the Dark Arts. He looked back out again, finding the darkening winter sky more interesting than the moving animation of the repelling spell. Then, as his glance wandered to the bleachers, he saw a small, lonely figure huddled on the steps. He knew exactly who it was, although the heavy woollens and hat that she wore posed a challenge. Hermione Granger. Draco didn't know what came over him, but he sprang from his seat. Picking up his textbook, he fled.

"Hi," he said, as he approached her. He wasn't surprised to find her deeply buried in a book.

"Hey," she said, absent-mindedly without looking from her book. Then, catching the bright green of Draco's scarf, she looked up. Draco saw her shoulders become tense, and rise slightly in defence. He noticed how her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and her fingers clenched her book tightly. "What do you want?" she asked.

The question made him stop, he wondered why he had come here. To seek companionship of a Gryffindor? There were better people around. To seek companionship of a mud-blood? His father would torture him slowly and then feed him to the house-elves. To seek forgiveness? "Help?" he said, sitting down next to her. He tried not to let her instinctive action of drawing away hurt him. He would do the same if he'd been her.

"You want _my_ help?" She was incredulous. Draco was too.

"Yes, don't get too arrogant about it. If you're ok with it, then tell me." He mumbled, looking at his feet. He didn't know what he was doing. There were many things wrong with the scene: 1) he shouldn't be seen talking to a Gryffindor. 2) He shouldn't seen talking to a mud-blood. 3) She had the most hideous buckteeth, ever!

She seemed reluctant but she agreed. He looked up, rather surprised. Her lips stretched in a shy, uncomfortable and, Draco thought, somewhat hesitant smile.

"Ok, cool, but not here. Meet me at the Divination Tower." He said, his tone becoming fast, hurried, urgent.

Hermione frowned. "When?" Draco could see that she was calculating behind her dark eyes.

"Before tea…3?" he suggested. Hermione seemed to relax. Without waiting for her to reply, he left. He looked furtively around him, making sure that no one had seen him. His father would surely kill him if he found out.

He arrived at the Divination Tower fifteen minutes early. She wasn't there. He didn't know why he was doing this, but he knew that he had to do it. He felt certain that he could not rest if he didn't go through with this. Five minutes before the end, he wanted to turn around and run. He had a sinking feeling that she wasn't going to turn up; Hermione Granger was going to take her revenge. But his fears proved to be unfounded when at 3 O'clock on the dot, Hermione appeared, her wand in her hand. She clearly didn't trust Draco.

"Wow, Granger, that eager to see me?" the words came out before Draco could stop them. It had become instinctive now. Insults easily rolled off his tongue; curiously, the derogatory words came out easily, thoughtlessly. True, honest ones had to be dragged out.

"Draco, why did you ask to meet me here?" she asked, raising her wand slightly. She kept looking around, her eyes carefully perusing every hiding place, every dark corner.

"There's no one else here, Granger." He replied. "You can put that away. I won't do anything. I give you my word." She scoffed at that. It hurt her that she didn't trust him. Didn't his word count for anything? Didn't his name mean anything to her?

"Draco, you're the last person on Earth I'd trust to keep to his word." She replied. But she lowered her wand nonetheless.

She stopped, a few yards away. They didn't say anything for a moment. Hermione waited for Draco to say something; Draco searched for words. When they proved to be too elusive, he returned to his previous lie. "I want your help. I was wondering if I could borrow your Transfiguration notes?" The lie, it came out too easily.

"Ok, I'll get you a copy." She said. Frowning, she added, "I still don't understand why you want _my _help? You're just as capable as I am." Malfoy smirked at the compliment that she had undoubtedly let slip by mistake. Upon seeing his smirk, she raised her eyebrows in an exasperated way. "Stay here, I'll be right back with them." She said.

"Yes." He said, deciding that he wasn't going to be able to say sorry. It seemed to be a word that he was biologically programmed not to say. Malfoys don't apologize; they make others apologize.

She turned around, about to leave. "Thanks!" Draco said; his chest tightened as the word left his lips; he wondered what she would say. She turned around, giving him a funny look. Draco didn't know what to make of it. It was strange. He wondered what she was thinking; he wondered if she would forgive him now. When she left, he relaxed. He turned around, and leaned at the balcony, peering at the vast stretch of the forbidden forest. There was something in the darkness. He couldn't be sure, but whenever he looked at the forest, whenever he tried to see past the darkness, he felt as if there was something calling to him, something pulling him towards it. He told himself that he was just imagining things. He decided to stay there for the rest of the evening, foregoing tea altogether. It was peaceful and calm. Although he hadn't exactly apologized, he felt peaceful inside upon having thanked her for her generosity. It was something that her father would never do; something that her mother would scowl at him for; something that he was sure would expel him from Slytherin and the company of his friends. But it was something that _he_ had wanted to do, for a long time.

A few minutes passed, before Hermione returned with the notes. "Here," she said, "it's a copy of the original, so you can keep them if you want." She said. Her voice had changed slightly. It had become…Draco couldn't tell, but it was softer, kinder. Draco was surprised that she would let him keep her notes, but then he realised that she probably copied them because she didn't trust him; she probably thought that Draco would use them for some evil purpose. Draco took them, dredging a smile, trying to match her kind voice with a grateful smile. He expected Hermione to go, but when he looked up, she was still there. She had that same funny look on her face, like she'd had before.

"What is it, Granger?" he asked, his stomach tightening and coiling in tension.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it; then she opened it again. Words, it seemed, were hiding from her as well. "You seem…different." She said, at length.

"Different, how?" he wondered.

"Well, you thanked me before. It was quiet surprising." Hermione must have seen Draco become tense and rigid, for she added, "It was a nice surprise." Draco didn't relax. "Malfoy, why are you so mean all the time?" Hermione asked; the same frown that had appeared before graced her features once more.

The conversation was soon spiralling out of Draco's control, heading towards a destination that Draco didn't like. Hermione's curiosity disturbed him, unsettled him. He didn't want her to ask him questions; he didn't want these questions inside his head; he didn't want to know the answers himself. "You should go Granger," he said. Hermione's frown deepened, but she didn't ask him any more questions. She simply left. It had suddenly dawned on her that there was more to Draco Malfoy than what met the eye…


	8. Chocolate

A/N: Here's the next chapter, hope you like it. :)

**Chapter 8 - Chocolate**

Nearly two years had passed since Draco had spoken to Hermione. He had seen her with her friends, laughing. Jealousy – or something similar had burnt in his stomach when he had seen Dumbledore congratulate her at the end of their first year, and rage had bubbled in him when the green banners of Slytherin had transformed into red of Slytherin. It was a mockery; why put them up in the first place? Last year, thankfully they had been spared the praises of the Trio by the Headmaster but he had heard the rumours; everyone had heard the rumours. Everyone always talked about Harry Potter. And Draco wasn't jealous exactly, but it was somewhat exasperatingly repetitive. How could he even have friends when others around him somehow always ended up getting hurt? He had remembered Hermione's frozen look, her outstretched hand in the hospital last year. The blank, emptiness of her eyes was the worst thing. Despite his parentage, Draco had never been subjected to too much dark magic; just a little. It had scared him to see the effect on a power curse on someone even if he was supposed to hate that someone.

This year, he had hoped would be different. This year, he had hoped would be quieter. This year he had hoped that perhaps he would be able to shine and perhaps this year the entire school will applaud for his house. But he knew when the train stopped midway for Death Eaters that this year wasn't going to be any different.

He heard about Harry's fainting spell in the train; he mocked and ridiculed it with his friends but he knew that everyone sympathised with him. _Poor Harry, it must be awful to suddenly remember your parent's murder. _Yes, it was awful. It was awful that Draco had to hear these things everywhere. So he tried to draw some pleasure out of the ridiculous scene that he imagined must have occurred: Harry shuddering and shivering like a damsel in distress and then fainting like a feeble hearted woman.

It was getting dark outside; the sky was overcast with a thick cover of rain clouds. A storm brewed. Draco hurried towards the Great Hall. He was late for dinner; he was very late in fact. There was no one about except the echoing ring of his footfalls. He stopped suddenly when he noticed that the lamps were flickering and the flames dancing as if a soft breeze were blowing. Draco felt it too - a sudden coldness rising in the air that beat the general warmth of the castle. He didn't like it, and he wanted to escape but his feet for some inexplicable reason were stuck to the floor, unmoving. He heard a voice. He turned around, looking for its source, but found none. He was alone. The voice continued; it grew louder. His vision started to sway. He realised that the voice was in his head. It was a familiar one: His father's. It grew louder, so much so that his head hurt by the sheer force of the sound.

"_Where were you? Answer me!" his father's anger boomed across the entire manor and even Draco could hear him. Scared but intrigued he walked towards the landing, careful to hide himself. He saw his mother, whimpering at his father's feet, crying. He could hear her sobs, loud and quivering with fear. _

"_Lucius," she whispered, pleading. _Draco began to feel cold. He had dropped to the ground now, his insides feeling hollow as if the cold was feeding on him. He struggled to keep his eyes open but what was the point? "_Is it someone I know? Is it a friend?" his father's voice was followed by a deafening silence. Draco heard it ring in his ears carrying a dangerous and ominous response that his little five year old self couldn't understand but the thirteen year old teenager who heard his nightmare echoing inside his brain felt sick with the meaning. "Crucio!" there were screams, terrible and unbreable screams that tore his brains apart. _Draco, now lying on the floor, pressed his hands on the ears hoping to quieten the screams but they only grew louder. They reached such a volume that they became a physical pain. His entire body hurt as his mother's screams and pleas for forgiveness invaded every corner of his mind.

"Malfoy?" Draco stirred but he didn't open his eyes. "Draco?" the voice said again. He felt a hand, rubbing his arm. It was nice. Draco felt the warmth travel from his arm to his body but it wasn't enough to alleviate the coldness. "Draco?" the voice repeated, a hint of desperation and worry in it. He uttered a moan. "Draco, wake up." He moaned again. He tried to open his mouth to say something but it took too much effort. Another incomprehensible groan escaped his lips instead. He opened his eyes and though it hurt him to tear them open but he managed it. The vision was blurry though. He could barely see. He wondered what had happened but thinking hurt too. The remnants of the screams lingered in his minds and the sound of his mother's cries still echoed in his ears.

"Draco?" he couldn't see the person clearly but he could make out their thin silhouette and the wild, blurred brown head of hair. "Do you think you can try and get up?" the person asked. Her voice was soft, gentle, full of care. He wondered if it was Madame Pomfrey. But then as his vision cleared that it was actually Hermione.

"Granger?" he asked, his voice dry and hoarse.

"Yeah, here, drink some water." He felt her hands move behind his back and hold his arms. He felt her pull him up. He budged slightly but not by much. Draco put his palms down and pushed himself up. Until he was half sitting down and half leaning on Hermione. It was then that he realised that he'd been lying down in Hermione's lap. The thought both repulsed and comforted him. He grabbed the goblet that she gave him, savouring the taste of the cool refreshing liquid as it travelled down his throat. "You should have some chocolate as well." She handed him three small round chocolates, wrapped in red and white paper. He took them, his fingers fumbling with the wrapper. He couldn't move them properly and his head still hurt. He tried to remember what had happened but thinking about it only made him feel colder. "Let me," she said, taking the chocolate from him, and swiftly retrieving the brown, chocolaty ball. She looked at his pallid face, almost blue with coldness and pressed the chocolate to his mouth. 'Open' her lips mouthed and as Draco opened his mouth she pushed the chocolate in.

Draco felt her fingers as they brushed past his cheeks and lips. He couldn't see her anymore for she was behind him, holding him steady, but he saw her hand in front of his mouth asking him to open his mouth. He felt slightly better as soon as he engulfed the chocolate. It was warm, soothing and as soft as silk. It melted in his mouth, overwhelming him with the warmth and the sweetness. He opened another one and ate that and soon after the third one as well. He had never tasted any chocolate like this before. He wondered if Hermione had put a spell on them. A few minutes passed as he slowly savoured the chocolate, relishing the taste as it swirled around in his mouth. Hermione sat patiently. She watched him eat. His eyes were closed and a look of such bliss took over that for a second that she had stop to remind herself of the evil, mocking sneer that Draco usually wore. It was hard to even imagine that he had been screaming and crying just a few minutes ago.

Draco relaxed slightly, allowing the warmth of the chocolate to run through his body. He didn't even care that it was Hermione who was there behind him. He didn't like to admit it but a part of him liked the warmth of another body behind him, holding him, supporting him. But at the same time, he was humiliated that Hermione, a muggle born and a Gryffindor had to see him at his weakest.

"What happened?" he asked her.

"You…" she began, wondering what to say. "There were Death Eaters."

"And?" Hermione began to grow nervous, wondering how to explain to him what had happened.

"I was coming back from the great hall and I heard your screams. There was one Death Eater around. I remembered the spell that Professor Lupin had used in the train and well, I don't think it worked but it went away."

"Where are we?"

"The Divination Tower," she said, the memory of her last encounter of Draco replaying in her mind, "I didn't know where else to bring you. And I couldn't go get someone in case it returned."

"What chocolate did you give me?"

"Did you like it?" A small smile appeared on Hermione's face but Draco couldn't see it.

"Yes, it was amazing."

"Do you want more?"

"Alright." Hermione procured a few more from her robes and gave them to Draco. "Lindt?" he read aloud from the wrapper. "I've never heard of it before."

This time when Hermione chuckled, Draco heard it. "It's muggle isn't it."

"Yeah," Hermione replied, thinking that he would return them or throw them away. But instead, he ate them.

"Draco?" she began, "when I found you, you were screaming." She was curious. She remembered his face, how it was contorted and disfigured. His normally handsome features were shattered and the shards of his former beauty had jutted out sharply giving him the appearance of a much cracked glass.

Draco didn't say anything.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione probed him further.

"It was a nightmare that I used to have as a little kid. My mother," he wondered why he was telling her this but didn't pause to consider his actions, "she was being tortured. The cruciatus curse." He heard Hermione gasp in his ear. The air tickled his ear but he took no notice of it. "The worst thing was that it was my father. I didn't realise then why he did that. But I think… she had had an affair with someone." He felt Hermione's grip on his side tighten as she moved her arm to wrap it around his stomach. It felt nice. Having told her his worst nightmare comforted him as well.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Hermione could hardly believe the words. She had imagined his life to be perfect. She thought of her parents; they had their arguments but they always made up in the end. They loved each other. Hermione had never thought about it but she was glad; she couldn't imagine what she would have been like if she'd had to grow up in a violent and hostile family. She felt sorry for Draco and her heart went out for him. Despite being enemies, she tried to envelope him in her arms. She didn't know the words but she hoped that the gesture would convey her feelings to him.

"Why did you help me?" he asked. His previous repulsion at his proximity with Hermione had disappeared and he forgot that she was a muggle-born; he forgot about his father; a part of him wanted to do it just because his father would have hated it but a large part of him liked it.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, I'm a Slytherin and I," the next words came with difficulty, "Well, I'm an arse, aren't I?" Surprisingly, Hermione laughed. It made Draco uncomfortable, and confused. Why was she laughing? He wondered if he'd said something stupid. He remembered how she'd punched him just last week, anger pulsing through her. And here she was, laughing! It was unbelievable!

"Draco, you're so silly. Yes, you can be a bit vile," Draco smiled at Hermione's inability to use the swear word, "but I don't think that that makes you a bad person."

"So, you're saying that vileness is good?"

"No, just that there's more to a person than what he shows to the world." Draco nodded, smiling. He was…happy.

"Are you going to go?"

"Why?"

"I'd like you to stay here for a bit longer."

"Ok," she said. Draco, scared and his heart beating furiously in his chest, moved his hand to place it over Hermione's that lay on his stomach. Hermione was shocked but she didn't say anything. She looked at him. Draco was half sitting and half lying down so she couldn't see his face clearly but there was no mistaking the pleasure and the peace that sat on his face. It changed his features, altered them. 'Just like an angel' Hermione thought. The next two hours were spent in silence, gazing at the sky and the clouds that were beginning to part to reveal the bright, silver moon.


End file.
